“You haven’t mentioned your appreciation of books to your parents?” Mr. Wolf asked, gazing at Roslyn over the table. They were sat by the bookshelves in the library wherein her father had designated the area as a sort of classroom. Scrolls and tools of writing we’re sprawled out among the oaken table tops, piles of books stacked and crammed against each wall. She gazed up at him from over the parchment sheet she’d been studying.
“I’ve not the slightest clue as to what you refer.” Roslyn replied innocently, straightening it out with her fingers as she did so.
“Pray then what is this?” he asked, pulling a small red novel from the pocket of his tailcoat, Roslyn blanched in seeing it, having entirely forgotten about it up until that moment.
“That is my personal belongings! Return it this instant!”
“If not you like reading then why, may I inquire, have you gone to all the trouble as to dress as a man and strode to the bookstore well into the night when every other maiden has gone to bed?”
“I will not respond to anything you say if you do not return to me my book.”
Doing as she asked, he laid the novel down. Roslyn spent no time in snatching it up.
“I’d like my answer now please Roslyn.”
She blanched at the sound of her name from this stranger’s lips. And he did it without thought!
“Do not speak so casually with me sir, and if it so important then, yes. I am one for the company of a good book.” She answered halfheartedly, fixated entirely on the article in her hands. At this, he eyed her skeptically.
“You do not attend classes though you enjoy reading.”
“Yes, and?”
“It’s odd is all.” He replied, shrugging faintly and resting his chin against the palm of his hand, “You have no clear motivations, and still your better judgment is lacking. Does it please you to trouble them?”
“Who?” Roslyn replied dubiously, “My parents?!”
“Who else?”
“Then, yes. Without question.” Roslyn had now crossed her arms impatiently and was leaning back in her chair. Skeptical of his interrogational tone of voice, she swore to herself that she’d relent against any questions he’d raise from then onward.
“But that cannot be your sole motivation,” he said in a desperate tone of voice, “What do you hope to gain in losing an education? You’ve mind enough to seek the solace of books, yet you’ve no mind to learn more of the world?”
“Are you referring to the dull bindings my father keeps in this library?”
“Dull? This library is more than proficient, and larger than many!” he cried, leaning forward as though to make her see it through his own willingness, “It ought to have had something you enjoy reading about.”
Roslyn, unsure as to whether she could speak freely, turned to establish the undertakings of her chaperone, Mrs. Gardenia. To her surprise, she found the woman soundly asleep amongst the many cushions, the needle and cloth she’d only begun sewing with lay strewn upon her ruffled skirts.
“No. I’ve search them all and have yet to find something to my liking.” Roslyn exclaimed, returning her gaze once more to Mr. Wolf, “They are all books of scientific explorations, and historical statistics, not at all the kind of thing I’d enjoy. Where is the humor? Where is the magic? Where is the conquest and pursuits of love?” Roslyn had forgotten entirely of the promise to herself, to not entertain his curiosity, “I have no choice but to visit the bookstore! My father, unrelenting as he is, expects far more of me than even that of society! I am no historian, nor will I ever be, and yet he is unwilling to renounce these fanciful notions of his.”
“Then why have you not spoken to him about your concerns?” Mr. Wolf questioned, “And why is it you suppose he wishes these things of you?”
Roslyn was silent for a while, “...no particular reason…”
She could hardly tell him of her mother’s difficulty in bearing children, no more than she could express her father’s resentment to her own self for not being a son; moreover, she could not explain her father’s refusal to believe Roslyn’s being a woman at all! He would surely be hanged for lunacy if caught, and then her mother and herself would be forced to relent the house to her uncle whose countenance was not all charitable. They would have nowhere to go.
“You lie.” He stated uncertainly, as though he himself was unknowing of the truth in it. Roslyn smiled grimly at his words, unable to contain the bitterness held closely to her chest. She too had many questions, though she was far too frightened to voice them openly; for fear of what he might answer.
What did he mean in the bookstore last night when he said that monsters exist beyond the realm of books?
Instead she asked...
“Why should I be honest to a man whose inclination had it in him to follow a young woman into the night without explanation?” her voice rising with each syllable, “Why should I entrust you with my secrets? I’ve known for but a day! And do not try my patience! I know you are not two and twenty, you do not act a bit like it.”
He looked somewhat startled if not amused at her coming back at him as she did, and she felt, in all honesty, a little more than frightened for her own safety against this stranger. It was not always wise to insult a man, especially when your chaperone was asleep and there was no one there to shield you from his billowing wrath.
“You do know how to get under one’s skin, don’t you?” he asked playfully, resignation written across his features. He hesitated before continuing, “But yes. You would be correct, though I’m not as old as I claimed to be, nor am I the age you believe me to be.”
Roslyn inwardly congratulated herself at having thought it probable.
“I am in fact sixteen.”
At this however, Roslyn’s jaw fell to the floor with astonishment.
“Sixteen! By God! You are two whole years younger than I am!” she cried.
He was tall in build with sharp facial features that made it difficult to determine his age, though most might (upon meeting him) instantly assume his being twenty years or so. There was nothing that indicated his being as young as claimed, and still, Roslyn knew he spoke truth. “Then why in heaven’s name did you lie?!”
“Is that not apparent?” he asked plainly, leaning further toward her. “If not I lied, how would I capture the heart of an amiable young woman such as yourself?”
Roslyn’s face heated. She wanted dearly to scorn him for such frivolous humor, however, against her will, she found herself withholding laughter. She supposed it had something to do with his age being what it was, that she knew his words were not so full of meaning.
"By God.” She exclaimed between tears of laughter.
“I’ve no idea as to why you laugh. I am being plainly serious.” Though his tone was as such, his face told otherwise and it caused Roslyn to laugh all the more.
“So this is why then have you come? Not for the money, but to instead ensure my matrimony?”
“Now then, who’s not to say I’d not have both?” he quizzed, his features drawn in amusement, though secretly, Roslyn could detect something else in his tone. A reason apart from the others for his being here. A reason he wanted hidden. But what?
“Well, I’ve no mind to accept you just yet, that I can tell you with out doubt.” she stated, squandering her suspicion behind a veil of light hearted banter.
“Nor have I the mind to ask just yet.” He responded undeterred, at which the laughter subsided. Roslyn was again reminded at the age of this boy, who sat before her. His manners and grace and posture were all drawn to perfection, his knowledge similarly impressive. How fast he would have needed to grow up, Roslyn wondered, feeling to her dismay, somewhat remorseful for the boy. But perhaps her feelings had changed somewhat, and she’d begun to quite like this curious person, with all his humor and knowledge of the world, and for such an age. It was, she had to admit, quite commendable.
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